'Annoyed' was the general state of Einar's being, for he was rarely anything but annoyed these days, and for a few centuries now. However, 'angered' wasn't something that was easily achieved, not even back in the past, when he was a warrior, which was one of the reasons why he was so feared-the cold way in which he killed, each moved as precise as the last one. However, he could feel it rising now, from his blood, a feeling that was bone deep and soulconsuming. He gritted his teeth.
Am fairly sure that I have already asked you this, woman, he said, rising up to his feet, but who are you to ask anything of me? First, it was my dagger, which you have no right to touch, but I gave it willingly so you would stop bothering me. And now you want to know even more, when you're neither friend or family, but a stranger that I haven't even met, but the one that has just started pestering me? Who do you think you are, woman?! And as he spoke those words, his dagger, now turned long-sword, turned yet again, into a spear, that he drew into the ground to underline his words.